{"id":10620,"date":"2017-08-02T06:00:12","date_gmt":"2017-08-02T11:00:12","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/?p=10620"},"modified":"2017-08-02T06:00:12","modified_gmt":"2017-08-02T11:00:12","slug":"me-myself-i","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/?p=10620","title":{"rendered":"Me, Myself, & I"},"content":{"rendered":"

Knock knock. Knock.<\/span><\/p>\n

I opened the door.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201c\u2019Hey.\u201d The man at the door was barely an adult. He wore baggy jeans and a t-shirt, a pair of glasses sitting on a pimply face under a shaggy mess of hair. He slouched confidently, if such a thing was possible, thumbs hooked in his belt, looking at me expectantly like he expected to be invited in. <\/span><\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t respond to him. Something wasn\u2019t right. He wasn\u2019t right. Everything about him bothered me. His slouch. His clothes. His glasses. His hair. He chewed on his lip as he waited for me to say anything.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAw shit,\u201d I said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0A familiar smirk crossed his face. \u201cYep,\u201d he said. \u201cYou gonna let me in?\u201d I stood aside and he walked past me. There wasn\u2019t really any other choice. He looked around, feigning disinterest but paying attention to everything about my small apartment. I knew what he was seeing. The dripping faucet, scuffed walls, dusty shelves, and dirty carpet. I closed the front door and followed him. \u00a0\u201cThis is where you live?\u201d he asked.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYep.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s kind of a shithole.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I wouldn\u2019t let most people get away with saying something like that, but I didn\u2019t have a lot of options here. He looked out the window, and his face on the glass reflected next to mine. A slightly different haircut. A few less pimples. Other than that\u2026. \u201cHow old are you?\u201d I asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201c19,\u201d he said. I remembered 19. A whole lot of promise at 19. A whole lot of hopes and dreams at 19.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAre you in your first apartment yet?\u201d I asked. <\/span><\/p>\n

He nodded. \u201cYeah, with Alex.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cEnjoy it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Uncomfortable silence ensued. We both took our glasses off and wiped them on our shirt to fill the void. At the same time we looked up at each other, and he smirked as he put his frames back on. Our glasses were the same, his new, mine scratched and stained. \u201cYou need new glasses dude,\u201d he said. I was less amused but tried not to show it. He walked around wordlessly, stopping to eye my bookshelf before being distracted. \u201cIs that the new Playstation?\u201d he asked, kneeling in front of my TV.<\/span><\/p>\n

The Playstation was four years old and had been bought second hand. \u201cNo, there\u2019s a newer one now.\u201d He wiped a finger along the top, picking up dust. \u201cWhat are you doing here?\u201d I finally asked. He looked at me, and grinned. <\/span><\/p>\n

Knock knock. Knock.<\/span><\/p>\n

I froze. <\/span><\/p>\n

Knock knock. Knock. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou gonna get that?\u201d he asked. I hesitated, but went and opened the door.<\/span><\/p>\n

The clothes were nicer. A buttoned-up shirt and jeans that fit better than baggy t-shirts. His hair was slightly better kept. The glasses were different. His thumbs were hooked on his belt and he chewed his lip nervously as I opened the door. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHey,\u201d he said, a familiar smirk on his lips. \u201cWhat\u2019s up?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I sighed, and stepped aside, letting him in. He looked around, seeming nonplused by the other guy, who nodded at him. \u201cMan, it\u2019s been years since I\u2019ve been here.\u201d He shook his head slowly. \u201cI do not miss this place at all. What a shithole.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHey,\u201d I started to protest, but stopped. It\u2019s not like they were wrong. The two others sized each other up as they got closer. Side by side, there wasn\u2019t a huge difference. Different glasses, a bit of a five o\u2019clock shadow on the new one. Their expression was mostly the same. The same as mine. \u201cHow old?\u201d I asked to break the silence that was forming.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201c39,\u201d he said. I noticed for the first time he wore a wedding ring. Did the younger one notice? What was he assuming about it? Was this even real? <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIs this a dream?\u201d I asked, and they looked at me. It was freaky how similar they were. I was glad there wasn\u2019t a mirror around. \u201cIt\u2019s not my dream,\u201d the older one said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot mine,\u201d replied the younger one.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGreat,\u201d I said, starting to pace around my living room. \u201cThat\u2019s just great.\u201d The older one, the older me, walked over to my chair, my chair, not his, and plopped down in it, kicking his feet on the dirty coffee table. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh man,\u201d he said, and laughed. \u201cI do miss this chair though. Wow.\u201d He looked at teenage me, college me, young and stupid me, and laughed again. \u201cYou got this to look forward to at least,\u201d he said, stretching and groaning.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLook, this is all well and good, but why the hell are you here?\u201d I asked, my voice starting to rise. Older me tucked his hands behind his head, lounging in my damn chair. Younger me poked around the framed pictures on my dresser. \u201cWhat is this, Charles Dickens?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Neither of them said anything. They just looked at me. Younger me picked up a picture. There were several people in there, most of them he wouldn\u2019t even meet for years. \u00a0\u201cPut it down,\u201d I said, my voice cracking. He looked at me, that stupid smirk on his stupid face and I never wanted to punch anyone as much as I wanted to punch him. I barely noticed older me sit up in my chair. \u201cPut. It. Down.\u201d I said, then stepped to him and ripped it from his hands. <\/span><\/p>\n

The photo was shaking in my hands. He wouldn\u2019t recognize anyone in that picture. Except me. And her. \u201cSo what is this, the Ghost of Christmas Past come to remind me about how great things were when I was younger? Well guess what, things don\u2019t work out, you understand? She leaves! You get a shit job, doing shit work, and she leaves because you can\u2019t get your shit together! Everything you think is going to happen, you think you\u2019re going to do, doesn\u2019t work, so don\u2019t touch my stuff!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He looked away, and that just made me madder. \u201cAnd you!\u201d I turned to my older self. \u201cWhat, are you here to tell me everything will be okay? That shit will work out? That if I just keep paddling away I\u2019ll keep my head above water? Is that why you\u2019re here? Well fuck that!\u201d I didn\u2019t even realize I threw the picture against the wall until I heard the frame crack on impact. I was breathing hard, heavy, the blood pumping loudly in my ears.<\/span><\/p>\n

Older me leaned forward, elbows on his knees, chin in his hands. \u201cDude,\u201d he said, his voice calm. \u201cNot everything is about you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Knock knock. Knock.<\/span><\/p>\n

My breath caught in my throat. The sound was quieter this time, but unmistakable. <\/span><\/p>\n

Knock knock. Knock.<\/span><\/p>\n

My older self nodded to the door. \u201cYou gonna get that?\u201d he said, the hint of our familiar smirk on his lips. Younger me wouldn\u2019t look at me. \u00a0I swallowed hard. <\/span><\/p>\n

I walked over and opened the door.<\/span><\/p>\n

He was chewing on his lip nervously. There were no glasses. Those didn\u2019t come until later. His shirt was two sizes too large and he needed a haircut. His thumbs were hooked in his belt, a belt that was too big, holding up pants that didn\u2019t fit. \u201cHey,\u201d he said. \u201cI think I\u2019m supposed to come here for something.\u201d His voice was quiet. He was a shy kid. The false bravado wouldn\u2019t come until later, sometime in his teenage years when he would discover loud angry music and loud angry books. Right now though he was just a kid, a kid who did everything he could to avoid his arguing parents, to block out the yelling and the screaming, the hate and the vile. A nine year old boy who lost himself every night under his blanket, putting himself to sleep with fantasies of a better life of adventure and excitement where the bad guys always lost and the good guys always won and families always loved each other.<\/span><\/p>\n

I took a deep breath and held the door open. \u201cCome on in.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Knock knock. Knock. I opened the door. \u201c\u2019Hey.\u201d The man at the door was barely an adult. He wore baggy jeans and a t-shirt, a pair of glasses sitting on a pimply face under a shaggy mess of hair. He slouched confidently, if such a thing was possible, thumbs hooked in his belt, looking at […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":17,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[1269],"class_list":["post-10620","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","tag-worst-person"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10620","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/17"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=10620"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10620\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=10620"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=10620"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=10620"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}